


Love’s Gonna Conquer It All

by VJR22_6



Series: Violet Appreciation Week! [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, nonverbal violet, violetappreciationweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6
Summary: Violet goes nonverbal, and it takes her a while to regain the ability to speak.
Relationships: Violet Sabrewing & her dads
Series: Violet Appreciation Week! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690945
Kudos: 25





	Love’s Gonna Conquer It All

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to do a “Violet has depression and has a nonverbal episode” fic for a bit and decided the Violet Week prompt “hope” fit it well. I’m just projecting.  
> In any case, the end scene is supposed to be like the ending to Inside Out and I hope I did that well enough.  
> Title from Celine Dion’s “That’s the Way It Is.”
> 
> Note: Papa is Ty and Dad is Indy!

Violet didn’t mean to go quiet.

It just happened one morning. The sun was spilling through the half-closed curtains on her window, the room warm with the beginning of summer. She opened her eyes, Papa was kissing her forehead as a good-morning and she was stretching awake like always, and… she felt too numb to speak.

Like a crushing wave of nothingness was filling her chest, bubbling up in her lungs, blocking her words from getting out. Like she had just rested, but didn’t have the energy to make sound. Like the words that once burst forth from her mouth had taken their leave in her sleep.

She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashed water on her face to try and shake out of it. But she brushed her hair and dressed for the day, and still, silence.

Class wasn’t the best that day, but none of her teachers ever expected the little hummingbird in the front row to know the answers. Even if she almost always did. She just hung her head and let others take center stage for once, rather than raising her hand and being ignored because she was eleven years old and taking a college course.

It was just hauntingly quiet everywhere she went, even though she wasn’t a loud person when she could be.

Her dads didn’t ask, just adapted. Took shrugs and head shakes when she could give them that, and when she had nothing to offer, they lived with that too. She still sat in Papa’s lap while he worked, listened to Dad read her stories every night. Spent weeks in quiet observation of the world, watching and reading to find noise again. But nothing sparked her voice to life again.

It’s been a long few weeks when things begin to change for the better. She’s walking through Duckberg, carrying her backpack stuffed with books, and is honestly not feeling too bad. Library trips make things better. And there’s supposed to be an eclipse today; she might stop to watch it over the water.

But as she arrives at the edge of the sand, the crowds have thinned, and she’s knocked flat on her face by someone attacking her. She whirls over, clutching a thick storybook, grimacing at her enemy, who is- her shadow?

Her inky silhouette claws at her, growls, attacks viciously. She stumbles backward. How- what- she doesn’t have time to think. Just time to dodge the increasing amount swirling black shadows with creepy red eyes.

She sprints down the sand, a book in hand to swing at them. The sky is an eerie red and orange, the eclipse bleeding through it. Ahead, across the water, the McDuck bin is surrounded in a dark vortex. She doesn’t look at it too long. It frightens her enough to be within combat range of the ones down here, much less the mass up there.

She looks behind her, where a menacing shadow approaches. She needs to- there’s another in front of her. She holds up her book defensively but his dark claws strike it out of her hands. She tumbles backward, startled and completely unarmed.

But then, in the same moment that her tail feathers touch down in the sand, the darkness dissipates. The sky over the bin bursts into a lavender firework, and the day turns to a clear-sky night. She watches the explosion in mute curiosity and mild horror before some sort of debris comes flying at her.

It’s a staff of some kind? A black stick with a round glowing object on top. It’s cracked, and quickly melts into a sort of amulet with the glowing part as a pendant. The crack is more visible in this form, sparkling and glowing vibrantly.

She plucks it off the ground, her face illuminated by its vibrance. How curious. Before, she’d been so reluctant to admit anything about the existence of magic, but here, in her palm, she has irrefutable proof of its existence.

Of course, the shadows would also be magic, then. Interesting. She glances up at the starry sky- it’s much later than she thought, and she’s quite far from home. Oh! Her dads!

She shoves the amulet into her bag, shaking, and sprints for home. Her hands are shaking, her heart racing, she is a mess. If they had been hurt during the shadows’ assault….

Papa’s car is parked in the driveway. It’s a little crooked, as if he’d pulled in quickly, and the front door is a little ajar. Not good signs. She takes a shaking breath, tossing her backpack aside as soon as she steps through the doorway.

And her voice rushes back with the stress and emotion of such a day.

“Papa? Dad?”

Papa is at the kitchen table, watching something on his phone. Probably the news- Violet should have checked that before now. Dad pokes his head out of the kitchen and sighs. “Oh, Violet. You’re alright!”

Violet feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She nods, biting her cheek, and rushes for them. They meet her in the middle of the dining room floor, scooping her up into their warm embrace. She leans in to both of them, safe from the shadows here.

With both of them holding her, the fear of almost dying is soothed. She’s going to be alright. She lets her usual facade of nonchalance melt a bit, and begins to cry.

It’s going to be okay.


End file.
